


Lifetimes

by tasteofshapes



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Domestic Bliss, F/M, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt and comfort, IchiRuki Month, Memory Loss, Post-Chapter 686: Death & Strawberry, Romance, bleach live action, ichiruki month 2019, no one is happy, reasons why ichiruki is canon, rukia goes on a junk food binge, where the comfort is mostly them being sarcastic to each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-02 05:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20270464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tasteofshapes/pseuds/tasteofshapes
Summary: Lifetimes, or the many ways in which the thread of their lives are intertwined.A series of one-shots for IchiRuki Month 2019.





	1. Day 12: slice of life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He fights, because he understands what he's going to lose if he doesn't.

So it goes like this: after all the arguments about Ichigo’s Shinigami duties, after all the instances of her dragging him back after he stomps away from their training sessions in a huff, after all of her vague explanations about Soul Society and its damn rules, all it comes down to is that tiny girl, once again standing in front of another insurmountable obstacle and refusing to back down. That is when Ichigo finally realizes how much trouble she’s in.

_You have until the full moon_, Rukia’s brother says, disdainful, not even bothering to spare Ichigo a glance. Ichigo knows that this isn’t a threat. This is an ultimatum. There will be no mercy for Rukia if she doesn’t get her powers back.

And so Ichigo throws himself into training. They’re out the door every morning before sunrise, down by the riverbank and sparring as hard as she dares to push him.

“No, Ichigo,” Rukia says for the hundredth time after she strikes him across his flank with the bamboo sword. The dawn is just starting to creep over the horizon, the morning light weak and grey. “You leave a huge opening for your opponent when you come in that way. Try bringing your sword closer to your body and attack like this.”

She demonstrates, moving her sword with exaggerated slowness, looking over her shoulder at him to make sure he gets the movements. She’s a good teacher, although Ichigo will never tell her so, because compliments and power go to Rukia’s head and she already lords it over him that she’s technically his senpai and is forever bitching at him to show her the respect that she deserves. Not that he listens to any of that crap.

“Minimize every opening, unless you’re deliberately trying to draw your opponent in. Got it?”

“Yeap. Let’s go once more.” Ichigo copies her movements clumsily while she watches with a critical eye and blocks his swings. It’s still early, and the morning mists hang heavy over the riverbank. The world is empty and quiet except for the two of them, the clash of their bamboo swords echoing out over the river.

“Eh,” she says doubtfully when he finishes, “your movements have the grace of a baboon with constipation but you’ve sort of got the hang of it, I suppose.”

“Why, you rude little-!”

Rukia shrugs at him. “What’s the point in lying,” she says blandly, ignoring his glare and his sputtering, “ugly is ugly. You’re all raw power and no grace.”

“Grace? I’ll show you grace!”

Ichigo runs at her with his sword up – _wrong_, Rukia thinks, her stance relaxed, and really, he should be embarrassed that all it takes is a little goading to get him riled up; she is so going to whoop his ass for that rookie mistake – and then he throws the sword aside at the last minute and full on body tackles her, his arms wrapping around her middle, one hand cupping the back of her head protectively as they both hit the ground hard. She’s so surprised that he’s managed to score a hit that it knocks the breath out of her.

Well, he did draw his opponent in, although this wasn’t quite what she meant.

He rolls her onto her back and she jabs him in the stomach in retaliation for deliberately misunderstanding what she’s trying to teach him, but he’s endured too many years of Isshin’s punches and he doesn’t even flinch from the blow.

“Well?” he pants into her ear, wrestling for her wrists and pinning them above her head, “how’s this for no grace eh? Who’s won now, eh? Give up? Give up?” His body is arched in a bow above hers, his knees on either side of her hips and pressing her down, his forehead almost touching hers. It would have been intimate if it weren’t for the violence that preceded this moment. 

Even immobilized as she is like a butterfly on a pin, Rukia still says, “I don’t understand the meaning of surrender.”

Ichigo snorts. “Give it up, midget!”

Rukia responds by throwing her head forward and bashing her forehead against his, hard. He yelps and loosens his grip for a moment – and a moment is all she needs to yank her hands free and shove him off-balance and flip them around. She ends up sitting on his chest, cowing at her victory while he clutches his forehead and tries not to curl into a ball.

“Hah, thought you could take me off guard?” She smirks down at him, arms crossed, and looking every bit the triumphant winner. “You know, I grew up with a gang of street kids. I know every trick in the book.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I grew up with Isshin,” Ichigo counters, tilting his head back and letting it thump against the ground. He squints through the haze of pain to look up as she laughs, genuine and unguarded, and the morning light filtering through the trees bathes her in a soft glow, and then it hits him for the first time that Rukia is kind of beautiful. The world grows quiet for a moment as he looks at her, noticing for the first time that her eyes are violet, not brown like he’d originally thought.

She shifts slightly, a warm weight on his chest, and then a second later he crashes back to reality and realizes that she’s sitting on top of him, and her skirt is splayed out over his kosode, and his mind starts going to places where it really shouldn’t. He coughs to cover his embarrassment, face growing red. She laughs down at him again, then stands up and turns away to give him a moment of privacy as he hurriedly adjusts his shihakusho.

They don’t talk about that moment as they pick up their bamboo swords.

“Well, fool? Ready for another round?” She points her sword at him, challenging. There’s a smile playing on her lips and she looks brighter, somehow.

“Always,” he says, shifting into a combat stance, his gaze steady on hers.

They begin again.


	2. Day 13: apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of the world as we know it

When the end comes, it starts exactly the way Ichigo feared it would – in the middle of the night with no warning, and all of them caught vulnerable and unaware. It’s just sheer bad luck that he happens to be in Soul Society visiting when the sky splits open with a thunderclap that reverberates across the world, and a mass of Hollows start pouring out of the rip. Alarms immediately start blaring, and he wakes, groggy and sleep-dumb, fumbling for his sword as voices shout out orders outside his door.

At first he doesn’t remember where he is and he stands stupidly in the middle of the room, trying to make sense of the noise of chaos swirling all around, then the door slides open and Rukia comes in, sword drawn, fully dressed, and alert.

“What are you doing, idiot,” she shouts over the noise, and that’s when a Hollow crashes through the wall and tries to eat them both.

Ichigo wakes up properly then.

He slaps the Hollow away in irritation when it goes straight for Rukia, and slams his sword straight through the back of its head without thinking. “What the hell is going on?” He demands, staring through the damaged wall that opens up to the 13th Division courtyards where a bunch of officers are fighting off what looks like an army of invading Hollows.

“It’s an invasion. They’ve broken through Soul Society’s barriers and the majority of the Hollows are converging on the Seireitei. It looks like they’re aiming for the Soul Palace,” Rukia says grimly. She’s got soot in her hair and a cut on her cheek, and she has never looked more determined than she does now, with her sword in her hand and Soul Society falling into pieces around her.

He takes a deep breath. “Okay. So what’s the plan?”

“Fight our way to the core and defend the palace.”

“Right, so another relaxing vacation then,” Ichigo says, deadpan. He reaches out absently to wipe the blood off her cheek and Rukia blinks at him.

“Be careful, midget,” he says quietly, and Rukia huffs out a laugh and hefts her sword.

“I always am.” She nods at him, _ready__, _and they turn as one to leap through the ruins of the wall and join the battle raging all around them.


	3. Day 16: if you go to her, don't expect to come home to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo has many regrets, but Rukia is not one of them. No one is happy.

Nothing changes. Even after a decade, even after they get married to different people, even after the kids come along. No matter who they’re with, or where they are, Ichigo still looks around for Rukia first. Orihime knows the routine by now. Ichigo’s eyes light up once they land on Rukia, and then, comforted with the knowledge that she’s there, he then checks for the kids – theirs and Rukia’s, and that bothers Orihime more than she will ever let on – and then finally, _finally_, he turns to Orihime. He always has a smile ready for her when he turns to his wife, but it’s the same smile that he pastes on when they have guests, polite and empty. Orihime knows Ichigo well enough by now to also know that he has a special smile reserved for Rukia that doesn’t appear when he’s with anyone else.

“I’m going to get us more drinks. You want anything else?” Ichigo asks, but he’s not looking at Orihime. His gaze is fixed at the far corner of the room, where Rukia is chatting away happily with Renji, Toshiro and Rangiku. Their friends and a small handful of Soul Society captains and lieutenants are crammed into their living room for Kazui’s birthday party, and the place is noisy, bright, and cheerful as the late afternoon begins to fade into the evening.

Orihime’s cup is full. Still, she says, “sure, just water please.”

She touches Ichigo’s arm to try and get him to look at her, but he just flashes her another quick smile before he disappears into the crowd, heading in the direction of the kitchen. She closes her eyes briefly. It’s the same thing every time Rukia comes around – Ichigo forgets that she exists. She knows that he doesn’t do it on purpose, that he can’t help himself. Rukia draws him in like a moth to a flame.

Orihime stands by the window and makes small talk with Uryu, who floats around whenever Ichigo leaves her stranded like this, and she’s grateful for the small acts of kindness that Uryu always shows her. There is no resentment between them, and not for the first time Orihime finds herself wishing that she fell in love with a different person.

After half an hour, Ichigo still isn’t back with their drinks, and Uryu has moved on to catch up with Chad. Orihime casually checks the room, hating herself even as she does it. He’s holed up in a corner with Rukia, both of them sitting on a sofa arm, their bodies angled towards each other and forming an exclusive circle of two. She watches him and sees how relaxed he is, how naturally he takes Rukia’s empty glass out of her hand and gives her his full one, as automatic as if he had been doing it all his life. Ichigo’s not even looking at Rukia as he swaps out their cups; his gaze is distant and sweeps over the crowd, but no one can miss the way his face is bright and open as he says something that makes her laugh and punch his arm.

Orihime looks away. Her throat is tight, and there’s a hard stone of jealousy rolling around in the pit of her gut. She looks around for Kazui, and finds him waving a plastic sword around with Ichika in a mock fight, while Renji and Toshiro watch on and give them tips. The sight of her son calms her, and she reminds herself that no matter what, she is the mother to Ichigo’s child.

Someone’s mobile starts beeping, and then another. There’s a dismayed exclamation, and then Toshiro’s calling out for Rangiku, while Renji bends and sweeps Ichika up into his arms. They all have their phones flipped open and a serious look on their faces as Ichigo and Rukia join them. Orihime works her way over just in time to catch the last bit of their hurried discussion – “okay, so you deal with them and we’ll go ahead first. See you back in Soul Society,” Renji says, and Ichika leans forward from the protective circle of Renji’s arms to give her mother a quick kiss on her cheek and a wave goodbye to Kazui, who is clutching Ichigo’s hand and watching the proceedings with wide eyes.

“See you soon,” Rukia promises, and then the group heads out the door, leaving Rukia behind to frown down at her phone and mutter something under her breath.

“What’s going on?” Orihime asks, bending down to pick up Kazui. He winds his arms around her neck and buries his hot little face into her shoulder, trying to hide from the world and the sudden solemnity that has descended upon the proceedings.

“Some kind of emergency in Soul Society. We’re not exactly sure what, only that they’ve all been urgently recalled,” Ichigo says distractedly. He’s watching Rukia, his eyes filled with worry, and her mobile goes off again, beeping insistently.

“Now there’s ten of them. Ichigo, I have to – ”

“Yeah, yeah. Go.”

Rukia looks at Orihime then, grimacing in apology. “Sorry to run, Orihime; we haven’t even gotten a chance to catch up! It was a lovely party though. Happy birthday, little one.” The last bit is directed towards her son, who pops his head up to flash Rukia his gap-toothed smile.

“Thank you,” he says, shy and sweet. Rukia breaks into a smile and strokes him fondly on his fat baby cheeks, and then she’s gone too.

Orihime lets out a breath that she hadn’t even known she had been holding, suddenly glad that all the Shinigamis have left and that she’ll get to have Ichigo to herself again. But his face is scrunched up into a familiar frown that she knows all too well, and wordlessly, he turns and heads for the stairs.

Orihime quickly sets Kazui down and tells him to go find and play with his uncle Uryu, then hurriedly follows in Ichigo’s wake. She enters their bedroom just as he leaves his human body behind and emerges in his Shinigami uniform.

“What are you doing?” Her voice comes out shriller than she expected, but she can’t believe that it’s Kazui’s birthday and he’s already running off to play Shinigami barely five minutes after Rukia leaves.

“Going to give Rukia a hand. Ten against one ain’t fair.” He doesn’t look up from where he’s arranging his body on their bed to look as if he’s taking a nap.

“Don’t go.”

“Huh?” His head snaps up, and Ichigo looks at her properly for the first time all day. “What do you mean, don’t go? Rukia needs my help, there’s ten Hollows out there with probably more to come, and she’s alo– ”

“She’s fine,” Orihime interrupts, sounding firmer than she feels. “Rukia is a captain, Rukia has bankai, and Rukia will be fine. Don’t go, please. Stay here, with us.” _With me_, is what she desperately wants to say, but he doesn’t hear her unspoken plea. He has never understood her, even after all these years.

Ichigo’s eyes narrow. “I don’t understand. You’re asking me to leave one of my best friends in danger?”

“No! I’m asking you to stay. Stay and protect _us_, your family.” She hates saying that, because she swore to herself that she would never use Kazui as an excuse to chain him to her, and yet here they are.

Ichigo begins to shake his head and instinctively, she knows that this is the moment. Right here, right now, they are teetering on the edge of something that they will never be able to back away from.

“Uryu and Chad are here to protect you guys. Look, I know we have our issues, but you’re asking me to put whatever _this_ is – ” he waves a hand vaguely around in her direction, “ – over Rukia’s safety. You’re asking me to leave her to die. And I can’t do that.”

Orihime swallows at the hard look on his face. It’s the first time she’s ever seen that look directed at her. “So... so if you go to her, don’t expect to come home to me.”

Ichigo’s jaw actually drops at her ultimatum, and he takes a step back, looking stunned. Orihime takes no pleasure in the fact that she’s able to goad an emotion out of her seemingly emotionless husband after all. She closes her eyes and breathes, waiting for him to say the words that she knows will bring him back to her –

“I’m sorry, Inoue,” he says, and there is a tone of finality in his voice.

Her eyes fly open. He hesitates for a brief moment, looking at her, and her heart lodges itself in her throat. _He won’t, he’ll stay_ – and then he turns. Two quick strides bring him over to the open window.

He leaps out into the night, and just like that, he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only way that Ichigo's life in 686 makes sense to me. He's alive, but he isn't living, not until Rukia comes around. And this is how I pictured his marriage ending - not with a bang, but with a whimper.


	4. Day 17: the last time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last time that he kisses her is also the first.

The first time that he kisses her is also the last.

At the end of it all, after their final stand against Aizen, against Yhwach, after all the battles and the bodies, after they stop the universe from crumbling, Ichigo looks out onto an empty battlefield filled with blood and ash and silence, and for the first time, he doesn’t know what to do. Yhwach’s threat keeps repeating through his head, and he doesn’t realize how exhausted he is until he starts trembling uncontrollably.

“Ichigo,” a soft voice says, and he turns, sword drawn automatically, and it takes him a while to comprehend that he’s staring at Rukia, pointing the sword at her chest. She just stares back at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Sorry,” he says, even as she pushes his sword aside gently and steps into his space. Even in his daze he notices that her sword is still in its sheath; that she trusts him even when he’s shell-shocked and shoving sharp pointy objects in her general direction.

“Ichigo, it’s over,” Rukia says, and he looks down at her. Her eyes are a particular shade of violet that borders on black. He’s noticed it before, but it’s never really hit him until now how he could gaze into those eyes and feel like he’s falling. She reaches out to touch his sword hand, and then whatever stupor he’s in promptly evaporates. He looks at her properly, at her strained face, the blood dripping from a deep cut on her temple, and it’s like he’s seeing her for the first time with the wide-eyed wonder of a child, marveling at the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Ichigo,” Rukia says again, because he’s still staring and he still hasn’t said anything.

“Yeah, yeah, heard you the first time around,” Ichigo mumbles, still looking at her. His free hand moves on its own accord, and he reaches out to touch her arm, then her shoulder, and then he’s gently cupping her cheek. His other hand drops his sword, and then he’s tugging her in by her obi, pulling her in close until she’s right in his arms.

“What are you – ”

“Shh,” he murmurs, his sword hand going around her waist and sliding up her back, anchoring her there. He dips his head, and then he’s catching her mouth with his, pressing his lips gently against hers. Rukia lets out a faintly shocked sound, but she isn’t hitting him, and she isn’t pushing him away. He slides his hand into her hair, his fingers calloused and rough against the nape of her neck, his thumb stroking her cheek, and she lets out a little sigh.

Her lips part, and Ichigo takes that as consent and licks into her mouth, brushing his tongue against hers, and Rukia’s kissing him back equally forcefully, her hands grabbing the collar of his kosode and pulling him down to her. He feels like he’s exploding as he presses hot, insistent kisses against her demanding mouth, taking nips at the bottom of her lip. He swipes his tongue against hers, and she makes a soft noise that leaves him shuddering with unrestrained pleasure. Her body is a warm presence in his arms, and one hand goes to the collar of her kosode and tugs it lightly aside, exposing her collarbone.

“Can I,” he whispers in-between kisses, one hand still tangled in her hair, “Rukia, is this okay?”

“Yes,” she breathes back, and he’s burying his face into the curve of her neck, sucking and biting at the exposed flesh until he’s sure it’ll leave a mark. She gasps and moans, and he shudders against her again, pulling her body tight against his until the wave of pleasure passes.

“Ichigo,” Rukia says, broken, “oh, Ichigo,” and he lifts his head from the tantalizing skin of her neck and kisses her again and again until he’s heady with bliss and drowning in the feeling of her lips. He wants this moment to last forever. Eventually they come up for air, and he sighs, a long deep exhale, and kisses her nose.

“I love you,” Ichigo says quietly, still holding her, his voice raw. His arms are warm and strong around her and she starts to speak but he says, “wait, please. Just remember this, okay? Even if you doubt everything I do after this moment, never doubt that I love you. I do, I have for a long time, and I know I always will.”

Rukia nods, her eyes filling with unshed tears. She knows what is coming next; she heard Yhwach’s threat as well, and right now this is the only solution Ichigo has.

“I can’t risk – ” his voice breaks, and he stops to clear his throat, closing his eyes against the pain as he forces out what he has to say, “I can’t risk losing you in the future. You are the only thing – the only _good_ thing in my life. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if anything happens to you.”

“You idiot,” Rukia whispers roughly, touching his face lovingly, “I love you too.” A tear spills over and slides down her cheek and she leans up to press a final, desperate kiss against his lips. When they pull away for the last time, Ichigo discovers that his face is wet too.

He lets her go, head bowed low, and she steps back. Every movement she makes that takes her away from him sends a visceral stab of pain through his chest. She doesn’t look at him as she walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only way 686 makes sense to me, and yes, I made myself sad writing this. Ugh why.


	5. Day 18: fake apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring an obviously-not-jealous-AT-ALL Ichigo.

Rukia’s good at putting on an act. Ichigo knows this, knows that those big eyes and innocent expression and that fake-cute voice that she pastes on come to her as easily as breathing. He also knows that she uses it to shift through the people in her life, that this syrupy-sweet version of Rukia only comes out when she’s around people she doesn’t know, or trust. The people – mainly, _him_ – that get her punches and her sarcasm and her honesty are the ones she knows she can count on when the shit hits the fan.

Still, it doesn’t make it any less annoying when his classmates fawn and coo over her like she’s some new exotic transfer student. The guys, especially, are fascinated by the simple things she doesn’t quite know or quite get, and are always rewarded for their efforts to help her “assimilate” with a disgustingly sweet smile and a flutter of eyelashes. Ichigo snorts to himself as he watches them make fools of themselves as they fight over who gets to help her make her instant ramen.

“And then you add the flavouring, like this!” Mizuiro rips into the tiny packet and pours it into the steaming noodles with a flourish. There’s a quick scuffle with Keigo over the chopsticks, then Mizuiro literally shoves him away and holds him at bay with one hand on his forehead and, with the other, picks up the chopsticks and mixes the powder in. He beams at Rukia, projecting sparkles and youth while Keigo makes pitiful whining noises that everyone ignores.

“Ooooooo,” Rukia says, clasping her hands together in front of her in an exaggerated act of delight that Ichigo suspects that she learnt from a manga somewhere. “Thanks to you, now I won’t have to starve for lunch! Kurosaki-kun could definitely learn a thing or two from you on how to treat a girl properly!” She shoots Ichigo an evil look behind their backs.

Ichigo rolls his eyes so hard that he thinks he might have temporarily gone blind, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. He bites grumpily into his lunch instead, and resorts to sending Rukia dirty sideway glances every few seconds.

It’s a hot day, one of the hottest of the year so far, and the classroom is stuffy even with all the windows thrown wide open. Why anyone would want to eat a bowl of steaming noodles on such an insanely hot day is beyond him, but Rukia doesn’t seem to feel the temperature like the rest of them do, and her eyes had lit up when she found a massive pack of instant noodles in the Kurosaki kitchen earlier this morning.

“What does it mean, ‘instant’,” she had asked curiously, reading the label.

“All ya need is hot water,” Ichigo told her around a mouthful of bread. They never really had time for breakfast, not with their morning training sessions, so his explanations didn’t go any further than that before they were out the door and he was down by the canal getting his ass handed to him again.

And now: lunch, except that this fake version of Rukia isn’t faking her wonder as she tries her noodles, and her genuine pleasure and the way she gives the boys one of her real smiles is really starting to piss Ichigo off for some reason. He scowls darkly at them as Mizuiro continues sparkling at Rukia and Keigo prattles on about different flavours. He can tell that Rukia isn’t really listening, she’s too busy eating and making little satisfied noises at her noodles, but she nods along at the appropriate juncture. It’s when Keigo starts asking her what she’s doing after school and offers to take her to the nearby supermarket to go noodle shopping that Ichigo finally snaps, and really, it’s just because of the way Keigo says it and leers at her, and it’s not because he’s irrationally jealous or anything.

He cracks his fingers ominously and stands up, his chair scraping against the floor, and the sudden movement makes all of them look over. He has on one of his fierce _don’t-fuck-with-me_ scowls that instantly makes the other boys go quiet as he strides over and glares at them.

“Ichigo, a-are you okay?” At his scowl, Keigo immediately moves back several inches away from Rukia and puts his hands up in front of him as if to try and ward Ichigo away.

“Fine,” Ichigo bites out. He looks down at Rukia, who is blatantly ignoring him in favour of cooing at her noodles. Somehow, that makes him even more irritated. He pulls over a chair and plonks himself into it, then grabs Rukia’s chopsticks out of her hand and takes a huge serving of her noodles and shoves it in his mouth.

“Oh sorry, were you eating that?” He says, mouth full, and purposely slurps it up extra loudly. “Oops, looks like I’m eating your food, guess I’ll have to buy you some noodles later to make up for it, huh?”

Rukia is so astonished at this shameless act of food thievery that she drops her charming facade completely.

“Oie, Ichigo! Those are my noodles!” She punches him on the arm, hard. He winces from the blow, but continues shoving and slurping up her noodles defiantly, still glaring at Keigo and Mizuiro.

“You have an entire pack of them in your house, why do you purposely have to steal mine, huh? Do you wanna get your ass kicked again? Give me that back right now!” Rukia is in the midst of grabbing her chopsticks back when she realizes that the group is staring at the both of them in stunned silence.

“Get your ass kicked…. again?” Keigo repeats slowly, turning from Rukia to look at Ichigo in amazement. Ichigo chokes and sprays out half-chewed noodles all over them.

“Ah, hahaha, of course not ‘again’! What I mean is, well, I’m sure Kurosaki-kun has gotten into plenty of fights because of that face of his, you know, he looks like _such_ a delinquent, and I suppose we can’t blame him, not all of us are born naturally pretty, but he’s trying his best with what he’s been given!“

Ichigo nods along unthinkingly. “Yeah, you know, my face – hey, wait a minute!” He glares at Rukia, who pulls a quick face at him.

Keigo and Mizuiro are still gaping at them, and Rukia decides it’s time to cut out before any more awkward questions arise. She stands up and grabs Ichigo by the collar and hauls him to his feet.

“Oh no, look at the time, Kurosaki-kun you’d better buy me something from the canteen to replace my lunch! Please excuse us everyone!” She continues smiling her fake smile as they back out the classroom door. Once the classroom door slides closed behind them, she turns and kicks him in the shin. “Food bandit! Do you want to die?! Who taught you to snatch food like that?”

“Well, it’s your fault really, you made it seem _so_ delicious that I just had to try a bite.” Ichigo dodges another well-aimed kick, then says, “look, I promised I’ll take you to the grocery store later, and I will, alright?” He eyes her for a moment, and when no further kicks are forthcoming, he tells her seriously, "listen, never follow Keigo anywhere, okay? If you want to go someplace, just tell me and I’ll bring you.”

Rukia mulls it over as they start walking down the corridor. “Fine,” she decides, “You can bring me to the supermarket after school, and I’ll let you make it up to me with a Chappy toy too, there’s this one I’ve been eyeing for a while!” She goes on for a bit, shamelessly adding more things to the list. Ichigo argues with her for the sake of it, but gives in, like they both knew he would.

There’s still three more hours till the end of the school day. Oddly enough, he finds himself looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Days 16 and 17 broke me, so I had to write fluff. Fluff, featuring an Ichigo who likes to play with Death. Literally.


	6. Day 20: memory loss

There’s always a battle to fight, a Hollow somewhere to purify. They’re flying through the park, Rukia riding piggyback, her hands light on his shoulders and her knees pressing into Ichigo’s sides, then she checks her phone and says, “okay, here.”

He slides to a stop in the clearing she’s picked, and she jumps off smoothly and lands without a sound, her sword already in her hands. They stand back-to-back, swords drawn. It doesn’t take long, just a few seconds, and then the air shimmers and the Hollow appears above them. It’s small, by Hollow standards, a scorpion-like creature the size of a horse with a barbed tail, but fast – it falls right in-between them, and they jump apart at the last moment.

Ichigo tucks and rolls as he slashes at the underside of its belly, and it screeches in anger and turns to face him. The air shimmers again, and then another Hollow appears, right behind him. He senses the attack and dodges to the right just as a massive fist comes smashing down. He twists around and stares up into the slobbering jowls of a particularly huge Hollow the size of a three-storey building as it drools on him.

“I’ll take the big ugly one,” Ichigo shouts, grinning at it, and slashes at it to draw its attention before flash stepping a short distance away to clear the field.

“You always do,” Rukia says, more to herself than anything. Ichigo always has an affinity for the big ugly ones, the bigger, the uglier, the better. For now, her attention is occupied by the Hollow in front of her. The scorpion Hollow dashes at her repeatedly, using a combination of its legs and its tail to attack. She deflects, giving ground until she sees an opening, then drives her sword right through the center of its mask. _Perfect_.

She turns away to watch Ichigo spar with the monster Hollow as the scorpion Hollow begins to disappear behind her. She’s not paying attention, and it only takes a moment. The Hollow scorpion’s tail whips out from nowhere and the barbed end stabs her from her behind, right in her chest. She doesn’t even have time to curse her carelessness before the tail snaps, whip sharp, and flings her halfway across the park.

Rukia hits a tree truck with so much force that the actual tree topples over. Her head thumps against the solid wood, and then the momentum carries her body forward and she bounces off the ground, rolls to a stop. The impact is hard enough that it knocks the breath out of her, and her vision slips for a moment. She’s on her back, staring up at the sky and struggling to draw breath as her lungs burn. Everything hurts, and she fights to stay conscious. Then the world begins to dim, and she closes her eyes to a sudden flash of black and the sound of Ichigo’s cry of rage ringing in her ears. Distantly, she thinks he might be screaming her name.

When she comes to, she’s lying on a soft futon somewhere, and there’s a really tall guy with an unruly mop of orange hair sitting cross-legged next to the futon, holding her hand and peeping anxiously down at her.

“Oh thank god, Rukia, you’re awake,” the Carrot-Top says, sounding relieved, still holding onto her hand.

“What?” She croaks out, and sits up, blinking to get the world into focus. Her mouth is dry, and Carrot-Top hands her a glass of water sitting on a nearby side table. She drinks as she takes in her surroundings – a bare room, with a massive sword lying next to Carrot-Top that she assumes belongs to him, given the way he has one hand placed possessively on the hilt – and then studies Carrot-Top. He’s cute, in a vaguely menacing, brooding kind of way.

“What’s with the outfit,” she says, gesturing to the black and white shihkusho that he’s got on, “are you cosplaying? And where am I?”

Carrot-Top’s expression darkens. “Cosplaying?” He repeats, frowning, “wait, who taught you that word? Was it Keigo?! Did he show you a costume and tell you it’s something that everyone wears for fun? Did he ask you to wear something lacy?” His face goes red when he says the word ‘lacy’.

“Wow,” she says, interested, “did anyone ever tell you that you look exactly like a strawberry when you turn that shade of pink? Also, Keigo who?”

Strawberry scowls. “Yeah, never heard that one before,” he mutters. Then he seems to catch onto what she said, and worriedly says, “what you do remember last?”

She takes a while to think back. “I’m not sure, everything is kind of hazy. I think I was in a park somewhere. Wait, who are you again?”

Strawberry looks slightly taken aback. “I’m Ichigo. Kurosaki Ichigo.”

“Well, at least the name fits your face. And who am I?”

A strange expression crosses the Strawberry– Ichigo’s face, and then he looks thoughtful, almost amused. “W-e-l-l,” he says, drawing it out, “when we first met, I called you Shinigami. Then after we became friends, you responded to Midget, or Shorty, or Dummy. Other people call you Rukia, though. Kuchiki Rukia.”

She says icily, “and when I respond to you, is it usually with a kick?”

He’s fighting a smile. “Threatening me with violence already, Rukia? You must be fine.” He hesitates for a second, then adds more quietly, “more recently though, I’ve started calling you my girlfriend.” He looks at her anxiously, to see how she’ll take this bit of information.

“Huh. And I let you? Wow, that’s generous of me.” She looks him up and down with a critical eye – _not bad, not bad at all_ – then shrugs and says, “alright, you’ll have to do, I guess.”

“Jeez, thanks!”

“You’re welcome.” She smiles at him, crossing her arms across her chest, which is when she notices that she’s dressed in an outfit exactly identical to his. “Huh,” she says, picking at a large tear in her kosode near her chest.

“We were in a fight,” Ichigo explains. “The Hollow you purified sneak-attacked you right before it vanished, and you hit your head pretty hard. We’re at Urahara’s; he’s also the one who healed you. Do you remember any of this at all?”

Rukia shakes her head slowly, frowning. Then a thought occurs to her. “Hey, if that’s your sword, where’s mine?”

Ichigo laughs. “Figures that would be your main concern. Sode no Shirayuki’s over there.” He nods to where a slim sword is standing in a corner, and Rukia suddenly has the overwhelming urge to get her hands on it. She goes over, admiring the design on the handle before she touches the sword carefully. Then muscle memory kicks in, and she draws the blade out of its hilt in one smooth action, closing her eyes at the familiar feeling of her hands wrapped around the handle.

_Rukia_, a cool voice says in the back of her head. Her eyes fly open, but there’s no one else in the room except Ichigo, who is watching her carefully, and who says nothing. Somehow, the idea of hearing voices that no one else can doesn’t scare her as much as she thought it would.

_It will come back to you_, the voice says. There is the promise of power, of snow, of winter. _You will remember. When you do, find me_.

“Hmm,” she murmurs thoughtfully. A part of her recognizes the voice, but she can’t quite place it. _Sode no Shirayuki_, Ichigo had called the sword, like it was a person with a name.

She looks at Ichigo then, at the concern he can’t quite wipe off his face, at the way he’s forcing himself to remain relaxed so that he doesn’t freak her out more than she already is. She doesn’t question how she instinctively knows that he’s tense and worried, despite his casual pose.

“Alright,” Rukia says, settling back down onto the futon and placing her sword across her lap. She looks at Ichigo. “Will you tell me more about what you know about me? About… us?”

Ichigo breaks into a smile at that. “Yeah, of course I will,” he says, then reaches for her hand. His fingers are calloused, rough; and his touch sends a jolt of happiness through her that she can’t explain. Rukia looks down at their joined hands, fingers interlaced together, and it feels right. It feels like coming home.

“So,” Ichigo says, “once upon a time, there was a very handsome boy who was minding his own business, when this short and bad-tempered Shinigami appeared in his room…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, because I still haven't recovered from days 16 and 17. So fluff, with a bit of hurt, and all the comfort is just them being snarky. Snark is how they express their love ok


	7. Day 25: earthly comforts

Rukia is a dedicated officer of Soul Society who diligently carries out their orders without fail. Or at least, that’s what she tells herself every time there’s another disturbance in Karakura Town, and she goes back, yet again, to the Living World. No one bothers to volunteer for any mission to Karakura Town anymore, not after the last Shinigami they sent to replace Rukia wrote back constant, daily reports complaining that he had nothing to do because Ichigo kept purifying all the Hollows that turned up.

It wouldn’t have been so bad, went the aggrieved reports, if Ichigo hadn’t also pretended he couldn’t see or hear the guy, and kept insulting him casually as if he wasn’t there. It was highly detrimental to morale, the reports further stated sadly, to have a seventeen year-old criticize your fighting style, honed after centuries of training, and then have the same kid announce to the general vicinity that he achieved Bankai in less than 3 days and then walk away as if he couldn’t see you.

Nobody wanted the Karakura posting after that.

So Karakura goes back to Rukia, although everyone knows that’s just a formality, given that Ichigo has taken it upon himself to guard the town, and she flits in and out of the two halves of her life, going back to Soul Society every now and then to check in with her brother and her Division. Byakuya is silently disapproving, because he thinks that the Karakura posting is a waste of her time and talents, but he doesn’t interfere except to drop pointed comments every once in a while about how Ichigo only ever seems to need _Rukia’s_ help in dealing with Hollows despite having coped perfectly fine on his own during those few months with the replacement, and oh, didn’t he also beat up half of Soul Society and save the world, or was that some other annoying orange-haired kid?

Every time that happens, Rukia just hides her smile and politely steers the conversation to safer waters. Byakuya, to his credit, always lets her. He’s learning how to be a brother, and learning how to navigate the territory that comes along with it, and if Rukia is happy, then so be it.

And so now: this. This time, the gates open to the small cemetery that perches on top of a nearby hill. Karakura lies spread out underneath the afternoon sun, glittering faintly like a jewel. It’s the height of summer, and everything’s hot and humid. Crickets chirp in the undergrowth, and Rukia breathes in that heady scent of grass and soil, checks her mobile, and sets off.

The Hollows, when she finds them, are easily disposed of, and are not the sparring practice she’d hoped for. Afterwards, after she has cleaned her sword and double-checked to make sure that there’s no more unexpected surprises, she makes her way to Ichigo’s apartment. He lives just outside the town, near the local university where he attends, and an hour’s walk from the Kurosaki house. It had taken weeks of persuasion from his sisters before he was finally convinced that they wouldn’t fall apart without him if he moved out, and even longer before he finally found and settled on a place that wasn’t too far from the family home.

Ichigo has left his bedroom window open for her as usual. She scales the three stories easily and slips in to the fluttering of the curtains. The place is empty and quiet, and she guesses that he’s at class. Ichigo keeps his apartment tidy, and she spends a minute just walking around, re-familiarizing herself with his bedroom, his living room, his tiny kitchen.

It’s stifling in the small space. She throws open all the windows and turns on the fan, but she’s still sweaty in her uniform, so she heads to his bathroom and shucks her clothes for a shower. The cold water feels amazing against her skin, and she stays in there until the image of Ichigo bitching about his water bill pops into her head.

The idea of getting back into her sweaty clothes after her shower is unappealing, so she heads to Ichigo’s bedroom and takes the liberty of digging through his closet for something clean to wear. He has kept a collection of her dresses, but she bypasses them in favour of a pair of his boxers and an old shirt. It’s one of her favourites just because of the way it looked on him, stretched across that broad chest, and it smells so strongly of him that she can’t help closing her eyes as she inhales his scent. It’s oversized on her. The collar is stretched out from years of use and hangs slightly off one thin shoulder, and the hem of the shirt ends midway down her thighs.

Rukia heads back into the living room and settles herself into the sofa, digging around for the remote. She channel surfs for a while until she grows hungry, then pokes around in the kitchen until she finds Ichigo’s stash of junk food. He has eclectic taste, so it’s all unusual flavours like pizza rice crackers and extra spicy tomato potato chips and sake Kit Kat. She fills her arms with an assortment of food and drink, then arranges her spoils around her on the sofa in a kind of junk food nest as she resumes channel surfing.

This is how Ichigo finds her when he finally walks in an hour later: half-asleep from her junk food binge and curled up into one corner of the sofa, crumbs everywhere, and a variety game show playing in the background. He’s not surprised to see her; he had sensed her as soon as she had stepped into the world, and had sat impatiently through the rest of his class, waiting for it to end.

The weak late afternoon light slants in through the open windows, giving the room a soft glow, and Ichigo takes a moment to look at Rukia, at her messy hair and unguarded face, at the seamless way she has slotted herself into his life. She looks like she has always belonged here, here in his life, in his apartment, wearing his clothes and eating his food and sleeping on his sofa, and he can’t imagine a life where this doesn’t happen.

His chest feels tight all of a sudden, and he can’t contain the sudden surge of his reiatsu. It leaps out and touches her, drapes itself over her in greeting, and Rukia grumbles something sleepily and stirs.

“Hey Rukia,” Ichigo says quietly, dropping to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of her. Her shirt has slipped down one shoulder, exposing her collarbone, and his gaze is automatically drawn to that tantalizing stretch of bare skin.

Rukia sits up and stretches. “Hey Ichigo. How was class?”

“Eh, same as always. I go there and listen and stuff this thing with knowledge and smarts.” He raps his knuckles against the side of his head, smiling. “How were the Hollows?”

“Surprisingly easy. It’s strange though, they keep coming back to the same area. It feels like something’s drawing them there.”

“I wonder what,” Ichigo murmurs, still looking at her. His gaze is heavy and meaningful, and it makes her flush. “So, how long are you staying this time?”

Rukia shrugs, running a hand through her tangled hair. “Until they call me back. So… a while?”

“And where are you going to stay?”

“Well, your sofa is presently unoccupied, so I was thinking, here.”

“My bed’s unoccupied too,” he says, voice husky, and a promise in his eyes, and Rukia has to bite her lip to repress a shiver at the sudden spark of electricity that shoots through her body. Ichigo reads her thoughts and smirks at her, places his hands on the sofa on either side of her thighs and leans forward, his face tilted up to hers.

“Missed you,” he says softly, his face inches from hers.

“Missed you too,” she breathes, and meets him halfway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not completely happy with this one because I ran out of time. I will be expanding this into a longer fic!


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